The Woman on the Orient Express

by Lindsay Jayne Ashford

[brokentune]

DNF @ P. 64

“Yugoslavia. We’ve just crossed the border.” She looked at her watch. “You weren’t unconscious for very long. They brought a doctor on board when we stopped at Trieste, but you probably don’t remember.”
Agatha frowned. “No . . . I . . . What did he say?”
“That you might be concussed and I was to keep a careful eye on you. How do you feel now? Not sick, I hope? You must tell me if you get a headache.”
Agatha’s hand went to her temple. Did she have a headache? Her head was certainly sore where she had caught it on the handrail. As her fingers made contact with the skin above her ear, she gasped.
“What’s the matter? Are you in pain?”

And I am out. This has suddenly turned into The Lady Vanishes with Agatha taking on the main role.

Also, blame this sodding cold and accompanying drowsiness for me picking up this book.
It's an odd one.

I really have no interest at all in the fictionalised stories of Agatha travelling to Ur or Katherine Keeling travelling on the same train.

Is there anything left to say after Christie incorporated Keeling in one of her stories, Murder in Mesopotamia, as the - imo, incredibly dense - victim?

I have an interest in the entirely fictional character of Nancy, but this is not likely to sustain me through the rest of this book.

There are other aspects that annoy me, like the fictional Agatha imagining that Nancy Neele (whom her husband left her for) was on the train. This makes no sense at all. In fact, to me quite a few of the internal thoughts of the fictional Agatha don't seem to tie up with the Agatha I got to know from her own books and autobiography.

Eh, nope. Not for me.